Meum Angelus
by LikeIdTellU
Summary: 'There was a certain wildness about him, a fey light in his intense blue eyes as the wind ruffled his blonde hair'. I have known he was different, my little Angel, but I never guessed, never once suspected. I never saw the hurt in his eyes as I insulted Mutants, never guessed the reason for his solitude. Oh what a fool I was, I left him, my little brother with our absent father.


**WARNING: AUish**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters except for Emily.**

**Summery: Warren's early life through the eyes of the one who loved him most, his sister.**

I can hear him crying again, my little brother, and I wish he would stop so I can sleep. But the crying turns into wails that grow louder and louder with each passing moment, and I wonder why my mother or father have not soothed him yet. Then again I shouldn't be surprised by my father's lack of attention, for as long as I can remember he has been an inattentive old sod, so why should the birth of Warren make him any different?

I decided I cannot ignore him any longer and drag my sorry carcass out of bed to soothe the child myself. I enter Warren's bedroom, separate from my parent's room and just next to mine which I think is totally irresponsible on their behalf. What if Warren smothers himself in the blankets? What if he becomes hungry? What if he dies of cot death?

I follow the source of the screams to the mahogany crib in the corner and peer down at the infant uselessly thrashing around with his tiny limbs, his small face all scrunched up and red.

"Oh hush", I say as I picked him up and hugged him to my chest, careful to support his head, "What is wrong, little Angel? Are you hungry?"

Predictably the baby says nothing, but his wails do quieten and I count that as a victory, however small.

To quieten him further I begin to sing a lullaby my year two teacher, Mrs Evenshire, had taught me and my class the other day.

'_Lennavanmo Lennavanmo who is it swinging you to and fro  
With a long low swing and a sweet low croon  
loving words of a mother's rune  
Lennavanmo Lennavanmo who is it swinging you to and fro._

I am thinking it is an Angel fair  
The Angel that looks on the gulf from the lowest stair.  
And swings the green world upward by its leagues of sunshine hair  
Lennavanmo Lennavanmo who swingeth you and the Angel to and fro.

It is he whose faintest thought is a world afar  
It is He whose wish is a seven-mooned leaping star  
It is He Lennavanmo to whom you and I and all things flow  
Lennavanmo Lennavanmo  
It is only a little wee lass that you are  
Eilidh mo chree  
But as This wee blossom has roots in the depths of the sky,  
So you are one with the Lord of Eternity  
Bonny wee lass that you are, my morning star,  
Elidh mo chree, Lennavanmo Lennavanmo'.

Warren finally falls asleep, nestling deep into the crook of my arms, his sweet face turned upwards. I press a gentle kiss to his perfect little brow, and as I place him back in his crib, thank God for my perfect little brother.

My arms missed the warm weight of the child as I walked back to my room, and I couldn't help but think that I wouldn't mind missing a few hours of sleep if my brother woke again during the night.

**When Warren turned three **he was given a superman costume for his birthday by our absent father. The child had stared at it, then at our mother who had explained that 'although your daddy would love to be here he had to go to an important meeting and has asked me to give you this'.

Warren then turned to me, a solemn and all-to-old expression in his eyes that broke my heart.

"Mil-mil", he said-Warren still hadn't managed to pronounce my full name [Emily] properly-, "Where's daddy?"

I felt like crying as I gathered the little boy close. "Warren", I managed to say as I prepared to lie to the trusting being held so close to my heart, "Daddy loves you very much and wishes with all his heart" _If he even has a heart _"That he could be here today. But some certain nasty people" _Other then father _"Said that he couldn't come, and it broke daddy's heart to not be here on your birthday and so he gave you a special superman suit so that you could mend it for him when he got home".

My Mother gave me a very relieved, very grateful smile and left to buy a cake for Warren. I felt sick at heart for lying to the little boy held so close to my heart, but Warren smiled at me, oblivious-or so I thought-to the small, white lie.

My mother then asked me if there was anybody I would like to invite to Warren's party, and I was absolutely ecstatic and wasted no time calling my best friends Joan and Janet, who happened to be related.

They accepted, of course, and said they were excited to see the little brother I had talked so often about. And so when they arrived I wasted no time introducing them to warren.

"Oh your so adorable", cooed Joan as she knelt beside Warren, "Look at him Janet, he's so serious and well behaved, I wish my little brother was like that".

Warren favoured her with an uncertain, hesitant but still sweet, and yes adorable, smile.

"Your brother is such a cutie, Emily!" said Janet.

Said cutie got up and, much to my amusement, walked away with many wary backward glances.

"I think you scared him", I cackled.

I later found Warren on the balcony clutching the superman costume in his hands and staring up into the sky. There was a certain wildness about him, a fey light in his intense blue eyes as the wind ruffled his blonde hair that chilled my bones. He raised the hand clutching the polystyrene clothing and threw the clothing off the balcony.

He then turned to me. "It doesn't fly Mil-mil", he said sorrowfully, "It didn't fly".

"Oh come here, Warren", I said and opened my arms to him, which he ran into, "Of course it didn't fly, it was just cloth".

"But you said it was special", he accused.

_Oh shit, I should have known that would come back to bite me._

"Well", I began uncomfortably, "It was special, it just couldn't fly".

Luckily for me Warren accepted that.

**When Warren was six **I found myself having to defend my close relationship with a brother who was seven years younger then I was.

"Don't you find your little brother annoying?" asked Joan, "I find mine a right pain in the arse, and he's only a year younger. I can't imagine what having a brother seven whole years is like".

"Yeah", said Janet, "Little brothers are such a bother. Hey did you know that if you took the 'r' out of brother it spells bother?"

"Now I do, don't you agree that it's an apt description, Emily?"

_No, I don't, you stupid little cow. In fact it is probably me that does most of the annoying. Warren is such a nice, polite child, and I bet so are your brothers and that they are only retaliating your barbs._

"Yes", I said uncomfortably. Isn't peer pressure such a hideous thing?

But I wanted to remain friends with Janet and Joan and so I gave them what they wanted, what Warren didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right?

"Every day I come home he latches onto me like a bloody leach", I said, warming to my theme, "_Come play with me Emily. Look what I painted today, Emily. Can we go to the park, Emily?_ He doesn't seem to understand that I don't want to hang around with him every waking hour of the day-"

A shadow darting behind a wall caught my attention but I quickly dismissed it and returned to my captivated audience.

When I returned home it was to an empty, silent house. Which I found odd because Warren should have been home by now, bouncing up to me and hugging me like a little limpet while firing off questions too fast for me to answer.

"Warren!" I called, having decided he hadn't heard me enter, "Warren, are you home?"

I trudged to the fridge and helped myself to the frittatas inside. A noise caught my attention and I spun around to see my erstwhile brother skulking away from me.

"Warren, didn't you hear me?" I asked, wondering why he flinched when I reached for him.

"Oh I heard you, Emily", he said bitterly and he turned to face me, his face red and swollen like he had been crying.

"Why are you crying", I asked in alarm, "Was it Billy again or did you seem some mutant on the street and they scared you-"

He flinched away from me when I tried to hug him.

"_Come play with me Emily? Look what I painted today, Emily? Can we go to the park, Emily?_ He doesn't seem to understand that I don't want to hang around with him every waking hour of the day!" he said in a fake, falsetto imitation of my voice before continuing normally, "Well Im sorry Emily, I really am. I won't bother you again!"

And then he ran off and barricaded himself onto the balcony, refusing to speak with me. This, I think, was the downfall of our close sibling relationship and his relationship with our parents as he soon began avoiding hugs and us in general.

**When Warren was eleven **I got engaged to my boyfriend, Steve Hocly, which was the cause of a major dispute between my parents and I. Warren, I think, stayed on the balcony the entire time, staring at the sky.

I moved countries shortly after, and began a new life with Steve in Australia.

**XXX**

**Eight years later-after Alcatraz**

The phone rung insistently and with a sigh the man abandoned his work and answered it.

'Hello, this is Warren Worthington the second speaking. May I enquire to who this is?"

"_Hello Warren", _the distinctly feminine voice from the other line said, "_Im Emily Hocly, you might remember me as your daughter. Im in America this week and I was wondering if you would like to meet your grandchild?"_

The man sat down with an audible thump.

**XXX**

Emily ushered her small family ahead of her into the big building she had grown up in. She hardly recognised the old, cold man that welcomed them.

"Father", she began uncertainly before jiggling the little toddler in her arms. "This is Emilia".

The old man reached out hesitantly to stroke the girl's cheek, his eyes suspiciously wet. "Hello", he murmured reverently, chuckling at the whispered 'lo he got as an answer.

The next introduction would determine just what sort of man her father had become over the years. Emily patted her husband's hand for courage. "Father", she said, "This is Steve, my husband".

Warren Worthington the II narrowed his eyes before reluctantly smiling. "Good to meet you" he said.

"And you to sir", was the gracious reply.

"Father", Emily began, wondering how to phrase the next question she so desperately wished to ask. "Where's my brother?"

Her father's face tightened.

"Your brother ran away", he said slowly, as if each word caused him pain, "I could call him if you would like to meet him".

"You know where he is?" she asked excitedly.

Warren nodded reluctantly. "But Emily", he warned, "He is different, very different".

"How different could he be?"

"…Your brother is a mutant, Emily, he is one of them".

Emily felt sick.

"Do you still wish to meet him?" Her father asked.

Emily thought about it. "Yes".

Warren couldn't be that different, could he?

**XXX**

Emily stood on the balcony, staring at the night sky. Her father had refused to tell her what Warren's mutation was, saying she should find out for herself. All she knew was that he had had the chance to take the cure, and had decided not to.

Why? She asked herself, why would he not want to be normal? Why did he want to be a freak? Well Emily would get her answers tonight, regardless if she had to drag it out of him first.

A flash of white caught her attention and she spun around, almost screaming when she saw a young man perched on the railing with huge white wings sprouting from his back. There was something familiar about him, the blonde hair, that wild fey look in his intense blue eyes.

The mutant peered curiously at her and leapt off the railing, his wings folding inwards to nestle along his back as he took three paces towards her.

Emily suddenly knew why the mutant looked so familiar.

"_Warren?" _she shrieked.

"Emily", he replied coolly.

**The End **

**Would anyone be interested in a sequel?**

**Song comes from 'A Celtic Lullaby'**


End file.
